Awkward
by stripped to the bones
Summary: Follows tPatP, a bit late, I know, but it's been hunting me... What happens when Brennan and Perrota leave Booth's apartment. I don't quite know if it deserves a T rating, but I rather stay on the safe side. Please, R&R.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This story has been following me around since the episode aired. I decided to write it just to get it out of my head, but it ended up asking for rewriting and correcting. Over and over again. It's not an obssesion, but it's pretty close. There are a few more chapters in my hard drive that I keep reviewing.

Disclamer: C'ome on, we all know I don't own Bones.

*************

Well, well, well... she had no idea of what the hell was going on. She did not know why she had to leave. She just had to. She just couldn't be there. So she left. She could deny it, but she usually followed these impluses even when she had not explanation for them.

She heard Perrota's steps right behind her, maybe 10 feet away, no more than that. As Perrota closed the door, said "Now that's awkward"

Brennan kept walking, but she knew Prrota was right. She frowned. And when they reached the street, Brennan turned around and asked "Agent Perrota, why?"

Not expecting that, Perrota babbled. "Well, you were so... sure about not understanding why Booth is so protective of you that I assumed..."

What was she talking about? "No. Why was that awkward?" Brennan asked.

Perrota was taken aback by that "Oh..." So this wasn't a _why are you here_, _I'm gonna start a cat fight_ thing. She looked at Brennan like she had done before in her office "You really don't know, do you?"

Brennan felt inept. "If I did, why would I ask?" The only way she had to cope was to make the other person feel as inept as she.

Widening her eyes and glancing arround, Perrota pondered. Was she really asking that? Should she answer? "Ok, well..." But no, it made no sense that Dr. Brennan didn't understand "Are you sure you don't get it?"

This was getting annoying "Yes, I am sure. Why was that awkward? Because I know I felt odd, uncomfortable, but I don't know why. Do you?"

"Don't you have a friend, some one that can explain this to you?" to say that perrota preferred having her eyes spooned out to having this conversation would be the understatement of the century.

Brennan frowned again "I would normally ask Booth... it doesn't seem to be an option in this oportunity."

"No, I'd say it isn't..." Perrota sighed. She didn't want to be the one that said it, she didn't want to explain it. However, one more look at Brennan's puzzled face made her decide. It was time to be the bigger person, to help another woman. _Sisterhood, right?_ "Ok, maybe we should have a drink to talk about this."

"I don't need a drink" a straight answer, that's what she needed.

"But I am going to need a few." She placed one hand on Brennan's shoulder an lead her to the nearest bar, which conviniently was around the corner.

From his window, Booth saw the entire scene. Nothing good could come from this. Though his back didn't hurt much, he popped another vicodine and sat there waiting to see them again, to see them come back, to their cars, to his place, he didn't know which one was best.

Sitting at the bar, shot of vodka in hand, Perrota held her glass, Brennan mimicked her for some anthropological reason, and they emptied them.

Then Perrota asked for two beers and once they had them, she spoke. "Why was it awkward..."

"Yes." Brennan took a sip.

Perrota sighed "Well, for me, it was awkward because... as you may have noticed, I am atracted to Agent Booth."

"Yes, I've realized... you asked if his eyes tinkled, you stare at him a lot, and, well, you just brought him food, so yes, I can assess that you find him atractive" Proof, that she understood.

This woman was really clueless, Perrota thought "Ok, and I'd like to..." How to put it "Try out, you know, see if he likes me, see if he's interested"

Brennan nodded, and sipped again. This situation was starting to feel awkward too.

"So, tonight, I felt expossed, you know? Like my feelings were out there, and that's embarrassing"

"But you wanted your intentions to be clear, am I right?"

"Yes... but I didn't expect you to have your arms around Agent Booth..."

Brennan was puzzled again "I was realigning his back"

Perrota smiled, sipped and looked at Brennan again "Yeah, right..." She rolled her eyes, looking for the words "But you looked... let's say shocked that I was there"

"It did take me by surpriese" as much as she hated to admit, it was the truth.

"Yeah, well, you also seemed annoyed, as if you didn't want me to be there, pretty much like you did in the lab... because you don't want me in either"

Brennan pursed her lips, again, truth had been told, she simply had to own it "I don't, sorry, I don't know why... but it's clear to me that I am not comfortable when you are around"

"Fine, I don't really care. As long as it doesn't affect my work, you can feel whatever you want" Perrota stated it as the fact it was.

"I don't _want_ to feel that way, I actually..."

"Fine, whatever... we're trying to make you see why you felt awkward."

"Yes, please" Brennan replied. She looked as if she was going to take notes for an up comming test on the subject.

Again, Perrota stared at her "You really don't see it... it's amazing, really..." But they had a point to make so she continued "Well, knowing as you do that I am romantically interested in Agent Booth, and feeling the way you do about me, you felt exposed."

A deep silence followed "I don't know what you mean"

This was stupid, Perrota really didn't want to be the one that spelled it out, she kind of feared Brennan's reaction "You're jealous of me"

"I am not!" For Brennan it was a Pavlovian response: _you love Booth_, no, I don't, _you're attracted to Booth_, no, I'm not, _you're more than partners_, no, we're not.

Perrota shook her head "Not me, Peyton Perrota in particular, me as a person that... might interest Booth, in an un-partner-like manner"

"I am not following." Puzzled face again

"You don't want him to be with another woman" There, she said it, as plain as possible.

"That's not reasonable. That would... make Booth happy, and I want Booth to be happy"

"Yeah, sure... you want him to be happy with you"

"No, I don't" Pavlov could have used her in stead of the dog.

"You know, if you had all the answers we wouldn't be sitting here, so, start listening" another long sip "You don't want any woman after Booth, and you don't want him to want any other woman"

That was nonsense "But I told him about Agent Pritchard"

"Who's that?" Was there yet another FBI woman after Booth and she hadn't heard about it?

"The British Inspector we met in London"

She smiled "Ok, _she_ is in _London_, even if Booth liked her..."

An expressionless Brennan interrupted "Oh, he did" She remembered quite vividly the last look he had directed to her.

"Even so, she lives across the ocean... there's no way they would be serious... you see? You don't care as long as there's no real threat."

"I don't feel threatened" Brennan stated after a snort.

"Yes, you do. As long as Booth is single, you're fine, because you're still the most important person in his life. And you _want_ to be the most important person in his life, what you don't want is other people knowing that. That's why it was awkward for you, because you don't want me or Booth to know you feel that. To be honest, I didn't until just now, the way you've been acting, you had me fooled"

"What?" Brennan was in shock, deep shock, _she_ didn't know she felt like that.

"A normal person, a person who knows how she feels, would have never admitted that Booth's eyes don't tinkle at every woman, even less say that it is a sign of sexual interest."

"But they don't, and it is" after a short silence "and I am normal"

"I didn't mean it in a bad way." She took a moment "You are... very particullar. In fact, I believe you're rather selfless, generous, honest... but you can't help what you feel, and sometimes, feeling are... selfish, you know?"

Brennan gathered the info "Your hypothesis is that it was awkward for me because I didn't want to show either Booth or you that I want to be the most important person in his life, or that I don't want him engaged in a relationship with another woman, because I don't want to be selfish... just to state your vission" Had the lightening been better, her blushing had been vissible.

"Yes... I still can't believe you don't see it" Perrota started to feel fascinated.

"I see your point, I don't I agree" Brennan was considering it, though.

Jeez, this woman! Was science the only thing she got? "Ok, you're a scientists, let's try the Socratic method, ok?"

She hesitated "O... K"

"Are you in a relationship?"

"No"

"Why not?"

"Because, I am trying to consider the advantages of monogamy, and I have yet not found one person that fullfills all my needs."

"Ok, and why haven't you found that person?" Perrota let slip the fact that most people do not _consider_ monogamy, they just go with it.

"Because... there isn't... Booth says there is a person you're meant to spend the rest of your life with, but I have not found said person... and Booth thinks that one should not engage in relationships unless one thinks there's a chance it's with that person"

"And why you take Booth's advice in this matter?"

"Because he's usually better at these things than I am"

"So is Sweetes, would you take his imput into consideration?"

Ok, that was true "Well, no..." She started "Booth is my friend"

"Ok, can we say that you trust his oppinion because he's your friend and he has a better knowledge on human relations?"

"Yes, that's a fair assumption"

"You trust him more than any other person?"

"I'd have to say I do"

"And why do poeple take other's advise?"

"Because they aknowlegded someone's expertise in a matter" haven't they stated this already?

"Ok. Do you believe Dr. Seroyan is better at these issues than you?"

"Yes, I'd say she has"

"And Ms. Montenegro, is she better with feelings than you?"

"Angela? of course, she's much better."

"Would you say they are your friends?"

She had to think that. Angela, yes, friend. Cam?... Well, not at first, but now... "Yes, sure, they are my friends."

"And what does Angela say about you dating?"

"She is usually in favor, except the time I went out with Jared"

"Jared...Booth?"

"Yes."

"Oh...k...yeah, I can see why she was against..."

"So was Cam"

"Oh, really... well, you seem to have very good friends, Dr. Brennan" And why the hell couldn't _they_ be explaining this to her?

"What does that have to do with..."

"Nothing, nothing at all... let's get back on track... so you would say that both Dr. Seroyan and Ms. Montenegro are better than you when it comes to... people and relationships, and feelings"

"Yes, they are."

"And they are your friends, right? You trust them"

"Yes, I do..."

"But you don't follow their advise about relationships, which is to go out with people... other than Booth's brother"

"No, I guess I don't"

"No, you don't guess"

"Ok, I see you're stating a fact, you're right, I don't follow their advise... you have good logic, I must say" Brennan said it with the tight lips she used when loathing the statement she had to say.

Perrota was determined to get the truth out, she wasn't going to endulge digressions such as Brennan complimenting her "Yeah... but you do follow Booth's advise not to date people, regardless of who they are"

"Unless he is the one I am suppose to spend the rest of my life with... which I think is irrational, but in general, yes, I'd say I follow Booth's advise"

"Which is not your natural inclination, right?"

"Well, my natural inclination would be to... let's say engage in fulfilling relationships, sexual or otherwise, for as long as they are fulfilling. So you are right, I go against my rational and natural inclination, even when people as capable as Both agree with me, in favor of Booth illogical theory of..." Oh, no... like a bucket of cold water "That, that's not... my reassoning is not logical."

"Do you know why?"

"Hum... no."

"Because it has nothing to do with logic"

"I beg to differ..."

"Well, Doctor, you don't get to differ. You get to listen now, because I've done all the possible disecting of your situation and you still don't seem to understand... It's really... unbelievable... I mean, you are a woman, you know how men feel about you..."

"Well, I know that I am appealing to some men... I've been told that I fall into the parametres."

Parametres? Couldn't she just say _I know I'm hot_? "Oh, you're impossible.... Can I get another shot?" That last part was told to the bartender.

"The other lady too?"

"Yes, you know what, leave the bottle"

Brennan snorted "That's somethign Booth'd say"

God, everything kept on coming back to Booth with this woman. Perrota poured the shots and ordered "Drink it" They both did. "I am going to lay the facts for you, ok?" As if she hadn't done it already.

"Ok"

Another set of shots

"You, a rational person, who trys to take logic to every aspect of your life, follows, as you just said, irrational advise from the man you trust the most, just because you trust him. And you have irrational reactions towards women that might get in his... life. So, you are irrational when it comes to this man. And do you know what can make you act irrationaly?"

"Being stupid?" Were all of the IQ test wrong?

"No, no, no, no, no."

"Alcohol?"

"No, alcohol would just free whatever you're holding back, good or bad... Feelings, feelings make you irrational. And, do you know what's funny?"

"No"

"If you just... knew what those feelings are, if you just named them, it would be less irrational. You'd be able to understand why you don't like me, or why it was awkward today, or why you're fine with British agent, or why you shouldn't have gone out with Jared Booth"

"That isn't funny and doesn't make any sense..."

"Well, it's not supposed to"

"But you just said..."

"What I mean is, don't seek logic where there's none, and you'll see that not logic is ok, it's rational to be irrational in irrational matters" With that Perrota emptied her beer.

Brennan was frowning, thinking hard, it made no sense, but, apparently, it wasn't supposed to?

"Well, Dr. Brennan, I have said more than enough... and you got this from me... God... Consider it a return on your twinkling eyes coment..." She got up, looked at the bar tender and said "She'll get the tab, she ows me at least that" To Brennan again "You're on your own now."

Brennan watched her go, then looked back at her glass and poured another shot. Could Perrota be right? Could she be selfish enough not to want Booth happy? Did she have a reason to be selfish? Were there _feelings_? She didn't like feelings. This was all very confusing. She drank her shot, even though she knew alcohol never made things less confusing. Her bottle of beer was half empty, or half full, depending on how you looked at it, she thought. Potato, tomato... she drank it slowly, ideas flying in and out of her mind. She poured her fifth shot and drank it. She shut her eyes hard. Ok, now she was fairly bubbley. Not drunk, yet. But she didn't know if she wanted to get totally drunk.

"Can I take the vodka with me?"

"As long as pay it, sweetheart, you can do whatever you want"

So she paid, let the _sweetheart_ slip, got the bottle in her purse -those were the advantages of oversized bags- and walked out. It was a clear night. She turned around the corner. Perrota's car was gone, not that she was looking for it, she just noticed. Brennan's steps were a little slow, a bit dragged, maybe not quite straight. She shouldn't drive, she thought. But she didn't want to leave her car there, right in front of Booth's appartment. This was all very confusing. Her phone rang.

"Brennan"

"You shouldn't drive"

"Booth? How...." She looked up and he waved from his window. "It's creepy, you know?"

"Hey, I'm just looking out for you" She could see the grin on her face.

She smiled that lop sided smile he got when he grinned. "How's your back? Did I fix it or make it worst?"

"It's much better, thank you"

"Good... I'm sorry I hurt you before."

"Don't worry, Bones."

"But I do" Alcohol induced freedom of speech.

"Aw... you do?"

"Of course I do, you're my partner." Honest answer.

"Yeah..." that tone in his voice was new. "Hey, why don't you come up, sober up before you get behind the wheel?" That was more Booth.

It was the reational thing to do. "Yeah... though I still have my vodka..." she said shaking the bottle up to him.

"Ok, Bones" He laughed a little "Then come up and get hammered"

She turned the cell off and, with a final half smile up, she went into the building.

***************

Well, that's all for now. Let me know what you think. Seriously, please, review, it makes may day even if it's "you shouldn't touch a keyboard for as long as you live" . Should I continue or delete the rest of it from my computer?  
Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thanks a lot, and I mean A LOT, for the support. Specially to those who helped me with grammar and spelling. You all plastered a smug smile on my face.  
I hope you like it, but if you don't, that's cool too. I still have a few more chapters on my computer, though... That said, here it goes.

Disclaimer: No, Bones is not mine.

***********

When she got to the door, she knocked.

"It's open," he shouted.

A sting in her gut. She entered, went through the kitchen, the brown bag sat there, still closed. She looked at him by the window looking at her.

"You shouldn't leave your door open, it's not safe... you'd give me a lecture if I left my door unlocked!"

"I'm a federal agent, I can take care..." But then again, that wasn't true; the grave-digger had gotten him from his apartment.

"Still, it's not safe," Brennan said, purse in one hand, bottle in the other. They stood like that for a moment. Brennan was trying to read him.

Booth knew it; she was studying him and failing horribly. That gave him a sense of superiority that, even when childish, was very rewarding. "You ok?"

"I'm not drunk if that's what you're asking."

"You are a little drunk," He smirked. She didn't know why he would smirk.

"I am just...a bit intoxicated, that's all."

"Why don't you sit and I will get you some coffee?" He said, still smiling.

"I haven't decided if I want to sober up or get drunker." She blinked and looked down, as if her phrase could carry more than the words that  
formed it.

"I'll get you a coffee and a glass, you can decide later."

"I should get you stuff, you're not well enough to move around."

"You kidding? You fixed me up! Hehehe!" He clapped his hands and started to make his way to the kitchen.

As if bolted to the floor, she didn't move, just turned, leaving enough space for him to pass. He did and nothing happened. Brennan could not be  
certain if she had been expecting something, but if she had, Booth just passing by wasn't it.

So she sat on the couch. Purse on the floor next to her, bottle of vodka on the coffee table, elbows on her knees, back slightly hunched. Why was she here? Oh, yeah... to sober up... or get totally drunk.

She heard the grrrrrrr of the coffee maker. Not knowing what else to do, she drank straight from the bottle. Not her usual behavior, but it was becoming difficult for her to deny that the last few hours had had an effect on her, even if she wasn't sure of what said effect was.  
She licked her upper lip and drank again.

"It seems that you made up your mind," Booth added wiggling the glass, "and you don't need this." She reached out and took the glass. Booth  
held on to the coffee mug. Brennan poured another shot and without looking at him, drank it. Her eyes widened; it burnt, it stung, it was making a hole in her stomach.

"You drunk enough?" Booth was walking slowly towards her.

"Enough for what?" she asked, both vodka bottle and empty glass gripped tightly.

He made an _I dunno_ face she didn't see and replied "Whatever you're here to do."

"I am here so I don't DUI." Brennan said; her eyes fixed on a spot between her feet.

"So you are staying after all?" He sat on the coffee table and sipped his coffee. "I thought you had to be somewhere?"

"You know I didn't." She poured again, shot number maybe nine. But she didn't drink it.

He knew, she had said earlier that she'd go to "Mama's" and get him soup. And she'd made no comment about leaving until Agent Perrotta came. But he wouldn't ask why she had left, his previous statement had been forward enough to earn him an angry look she hadn't delivered.

Brennan leaned forward and left the glass and bottle on the table. "Do you have beer?" Her voice was soft, quiet.

"Bones, you shouldn't mix your buzz." A hint of worry dripped in his words.

"Do you?" She repeated disregarding his advice.

"Of course." But he didn't get up.

Brennan walked quietly to the kitchen and got one for her self. She twisted the cap, tossed it into the trash, and resting on the door frame, took a sip.

"You shouldn't sit there, it offers no support to your lower back," she drank again.

"You can fix me all over, right?" Booth gave her a knowing smile.

"You should see another doctor, one competent enough not to misdiagnose you." She was looking at him now, into his eyes. Nope, she could not read him. Was he trying to charm her again? She had no idea.

Booth saw her effort, her confusion. What was it about? "What sorrows are you drowning?"

"Hmm?" she raised her eyebrows, mouth full of beer.

"We've covered this, Bones," seeing her like that always got him a bit amused. "People drink when they are really happy or when they don't want to think about something, and that's called drowning their sorrows."

"If I had sorrows to drown, why would I tell you what they were? And... I have drunk in numerous occasions without a particular reason."

"When you have one drink, a beer or a glass of wine, that's just because. When you have a bottle of vodka in your purse," he shook his head and narrowed his right eye. "That's something else."

"Don't talk to me as if I was an idiot. I don't like when people do that, it's condescending."

"Like you never do that to me?" It was an innocent banter.

"When I do it, I try to explain things to you, scientific facts you ignore, or I give you the accurate meaning of a word." She sipped again, glad that  
the focus of his inquiry had changed.

"Well, when I explain things to you, I try to give you an accurate meaning on people's behavior." He grinned again; he loved twisting her words to make his point.

"There's no accurate meaning on people's behavior... the accuracy is in the actions, not the meanings. People can do the same thing for a number of reasons. Or, for the same reason, do very different things. The only thing you can be sure of is what they did, not why they did it. That's why psychology isn't a science."

He snorted. "You know that many people resist psychology because they don't want to confront their feelings, thoughts..."

"Ha!" index finger in the air "Most important word being many, many is not all, and if you can't standardize a rule to the entire study group,  
humans in this case, then there's no rule. It'd be like saying, _you know many apples fall from the tree_? What do the others do? Not fall; rise into the sky; elude gravity?"

He chuckled "I'd like to see that tree!"

"Actually, you'd like to see those apples." She corrected him.

"Whose apples?" Booth simply couldn't resist the chance and started to laugh before she could answer.

"The tree's," She sipped and watched Booth laugh openly. "How much Vicodin have you had?" But his laughter was infectious, metaphorically  
speaking. And it caused a low, throaty, velvety sound in her, a soft laughter she accompanied with a slight shaking of the head.

"Oh, I had a few." With an enormous effort he got up.

"Told you that you shouldn't sit there."

"Yeah, thanks for the help." He said, pain tainting his voice, as he attempted to sit on the couch.

Enough, she had had enough. "Don't sit; let me feel your spine." She said stepping closer to him.

He turned his back to her, because it was pointless to argue when she was like this, but mostly because he felt the need to reassure her that he really trusted her. "Don't do anything weird, ok? Don't crack my neck or anything."

Leaving the beer on the coffee table she replied, "Don't be such an infant; I'm just going to feel your column."

Booth almost broke into laughter, but the chance to offend her stopped him. Brennan placed her index finger and thumb on the base of his head and started her way down, vertebra by vertebra, assessing the distance between them. Though meant clinically, the touch was electrifying.

She stopped "Hunch a little," She told him. With one hand on his chest, and the other pushing his back, she again ran her fingers through a particular spot. "It seems that the T7 is slightly in retrolisthesis."

"English, Bones, English…"

"T7 is a little displaced outwards; does it hurt when you do sit-ups?"

"Hmm?"

She pressed, "Here, does it hurt when you exercise?"

"No, it hurts now," A whiny voice replied to her.

"You're probably too muscular to notice."

Booth smiled half smugly and turned his head. "Yeah, I am."

She used her left hand to turn his head and then straighten his back, without a word. She continued her exploration, both thumbs doing a little probing and poking. "And here's the one causing you trouble."

"Ouch! Bones what are you doing?" Booth almost stepped away.

"Bend over," her hands resting at the sides of his waist.

"Could at least buy me dinner…" he said under his breath.

Not acknowledging his joke, Brennan pressed one hand and moved it up his back to his neck. "Come on, don't strain your self. Head first."

He complied and, guided by her hand, he let his head fall slowly and heavily with his neck, then his torso. When it became painful enough to shadow the pleasant aspect of the contact, he said, "It hurts."

"Ok, stop," Booth formed, at best, a 90 degree angle. Her hands examined once again the lumbar section, then the sacrum, though not the entire body of it. After a few seconds, she spoke. "Right now the pain has to be muscular, meaning you're too tense. Stay like this for a  
minute." Brennan grabbed her beer again and drank big gulps. She put it on the table. And again, she ran her thumbs along the sides of his spine, up to the base of his neck and back to his waist, where she rubbed deeply, but not strongly.

An "Aw..." mix of pain and pleasure grew on his throat. "That's good Bones…"

"Mhm," It certainly was. Her blurry mind had acknowledged the sensation long before he voiced it. "Now very slowly, straighten up, one vertebra at a time. Let your head hang." She guided his moves with one hand on his back, the other on his side. "Breathe," She ordered. She never understood why people forgot to breathe when stretching.

When he got to the straight position, she placed one hand at the base of his head and the other under his jaw, and pulled upwards a little.

"Wha?"

"Relax, Booth." He did, and then she added, "Go down again, one at a time," one hand on his head, the other following the bending back. "Much  
better." She smiled to herself. She rubbed his lower back again, made her way up to his shoulders, and commanded, "Up, slowly…"

Had it not felt so good, he would have complained, and stopped this... unnecessary and slightly disturbing contact. But the truth was his back was better; the pain that had followed his boyish sitting on the table seemed to be going away with her techniques. "Oh, God, this is much better…"

"Get down on your knees," She ordered, once again, finishing her beer.

"Why?"

"Do you trust me?" It wasn't a question as much as a statement as she said it in a very low voice that could have been mistaken for insecurity.

Without another word, he got on his knees

"Sit on your heels, now lower..."

"One vertebra at the time, head first, got it," Booth repeated as he did it.

"Rest your head on your hands, don't lift your shoulders." She knelt behind him. With the heels of her hands, she ran the length of his back, and then she outlined his neck with her thumb and index finger, again along the length of his back. She did so three times, and in each he could almost feel the vertebrae separate a bit.

Booth suspected that he was enjoying this a little too much as another little groan escaped from him - breaking the faintest of smiles on her.  
As if waiting for a sign he had just delivered, she stood, feet spread at each side of his hips. "Be relaxed," She whispered the order as she started to move.

He felt Bones' hip on his lower back and then her torso resting on top of his back. He started to flinch and she muttered "Be relaxed, it won't  
hurt."

Of course it wasn't going to hurt! Her one hundred and something pounds he could take any day. Bad choice of wording, he thought, tightening his closed eyes.

He could feel her all over him. Her head was sideways on his left shoulder with her arms at each side of him. The entire weight of her body rested onto him.

"Now breathe with me," Brennan whispered. He did.

She felt his chest rise and fall, at the same slow pace she was breathing. "Try to get the air to your diaphragm, as if you are trying to push my  
stomach." She spoke softly, partially because it was a very relaxing exercise and partially because the alcohol was taking its toll on her system.

Booth did his best he could under the circumstance. Again, she felt the change. "Good."

They remained like that for a few minutes. Every time he exhaled, she was sure his muscles were stretching a little bit more.

Her mind drifted to her earlier conversation with Perrotta. Shouldn't be any physiological alterations here, if Perrotta was right? Shouldn't this be  
awkward too? But she was relaxed, her body so toneless that for a second she thought she might melt into Booth's back.

Brennan was almost content when she slid down his back until she was sitting on her heels, her knees by his thighs. That had been delicious.

For Booth, that had been odd. Different. There was never such full contact with her unless risk of death demanded it - let alone having Bones sliding from him. Maybe having a drunk Bones at his house late at night, massaging his back in such a...nonchalant manner wasn't such a great idea. Bones and her stupid lack of social conventions such as "do not lay on top of your partner," were going to make his night a sleepless one.

"Come back up," She said.

Booth did, slowly, like before, head last. She once again ran the length of his back with one hand, helping him acquire a proper alignment, which was really not necessary since the mere touch of her fingers on his lower back seemed to have achieved the straightening.

"Better?" She asked softly.

"Much." His voice came out husky, but he did a good job covering that up with a cheery "thanks!"

"Don't make any sudden movements," She instructed standing up, while rationalizing his huskiness into the very soothing nature of the exercise.

"Really, this is much better... See, you do magic with those fingers of yours." Booth gave her a lopsided smile, as he rose.

"It's not magic, just a few elongation techniques with which you should get acquainted."

"You less drunk?" He strolled to the kitchen again, his cold coffee in hand.

"No, I can't say I am." If anything, after having her head hanging down, she felt even drunker. Correction: not drunker, fuzzier. Had this simple exercise been so...pleasant before? She had done it many times, but she had never... "Ahrg..." a sudden feeling of anger rushed through her. What had gotten her mad at herself now? Oh, yes, Perrotta and her theory. She would have punched herself had she been alone. Instead, she headed to the bathroom.

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It's not nice to ask, but you'd make me a very, very, very happy girl if you reviewed. And, just so you know, I think chap. 3 is better (I like it better). :)


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Hi, people!  
Thanks a lot to MacGyversGirl and Mickey Boggs for proof reading, I really needed it. Though I did some editing after that (I just can't control myself) so it's very possible you'll find some mistakes. Sorry!  
I hope you like it. :)

Disclaimer: Really? Really? Is it really necessary to say I do not own Bones? I don't. And no profit is being made. I still have my day job.

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Booth took his place on the couch, new fresh hot coffee in hand because he suspected he would prefer to be awake, alert and in control. He heard the toilet being flushed, running water, then shutting, and finally the bathroom door rattling open. He saw her walk a bit more composed.

"Do you have any heavier buzz?" She was using his word, he noticed.

"Heavier than Vodka?" He smiled.

Arms crossed, she leaned her shoulder on the wall "No, than beer."

His eyes were suspicious. "I have Whiskey... "

"Where?"

"Top shelf, above the fridge, glass under the sink." He ignored why, but she was not herself tonight. When that happened, it was better just to stand by until he could be helpful.

He saw her walking, moving around the kitchen in that efficient way of hers, getting glass, ice and bottle. He saw her glance at the brown bag as she passed by it. That gesture, not intended for him to see, was somehow unsettling to Booth.

"You're not offering me a drink?" He asked.

"You're on Vicodin, you shouldn't... oh." Realization hit her, he was teasing. Silently, she fixed her drink. Usually she would have taken it neat, no, she wouldn't have had it at all, but it seemed that the clicking of ice against glass was fitted of her current state.

Sitting next to Booth, she arched her back, arms up in the air, left a sight out and stretched her arms to the sides. He heard a few of her articulations pop. Then she rested against the back of the couch in a quick movement, closing her eyes and sighing loudly.

"Now, are you ready to tell me why you're getting wasted?" Booth asked when she finally moved to sip from her glass.

She pursed her lips, tilted her head, sipped again. "I don't know."

"Come on, Bones..." Their eyes met for a moment. "I just want to help," Booth said in that intimate voice that was almost a whisper.

"Help with what?"

Did she really need to ask? "Whatever is upsetting you." He held his mug to his lips and blew on it.

"I am not upset."

"You're trying very hard to knock the sense out of your brain, if you're not upset..." His eyebrows rose, a small smile on his face.

"Fine, I am upset... I was upset earlier... I don't know if I am now... I am very confused," her voice had fallen an octave on that last sentence, and her expression and words reflected confusion perfectly.

"What about?" He drank his coffee.

She pondered before speaking, "I am confused about a lot of things... For instance, I am confused about..." She shook her head, looking for the right thing to say, "myself... and... other things," she added unsure of what _other things_ were.

"Confused about yourself?" Booth's eyes were wide open. She was one of the most confident people he knew.

"Am I selfish? Am I not? If not, why would I be perceived as selfish by other people?" She was making that face she made, her _other people's views are probably more accurate than mine_ face.

"What are you talking about? You're not selfish! That's crazy, who'd say that?" He was looking at her as if she had grown Dali's mustache.

"I don't know," She shrugged, her eyes fixed on her drink.

Booth was overprotective on many levels. "Did Perrota say something to you?"

"What? Why..." But then again, the window. "So you saw us walking together..."

Caught, he admitted, "I couldn't run after you, now, could I?"

She wondered if his use of _you_ was meant as plural or singular. "Rhetorical question," she muttered. Back on track, she replied, "She said some things, but I sort of asked her..." She took another sip, a longer one.

"Did she say you were selfish?" he asked in disbelief. He did not know Perrota very well, but telling Bones she was selfish moved her down several rungs on his ladder.

"Well, no... But I don't want to talk about it. Can we not talk?" It wasn't harsh, but it was rather firm.

"Sure." Booth felt frustrated, as he did every time Bones closed up. However this time there was something else, some sense of annoyance for which he could not find a exact reason. But the coffee was good, Bones was there, in his book, that wasn't so bad.

She stared at her glass. The melted ice drew little shimmery lines in the whisky. Questions ran through her brain. Had he called Perrota too, asked her up as well? Had she said no? Would it have been better if _she_ had said no? Was it some girly technique of which she was unaware? Was Perrota going to pursue Booth still? Why did that idea bother her? Was Perrota right about her? And why was Perrota there to begin with? Had Booth invited her, asked her to bring food? He had to. Why would he answer _it's open_ if he hadn't? Had she asked Perrota that? She had finished her drink during the cogitation. An ice cube fell into her mouth and she chewed it. Her head was dulled, the numbness was taking over her body, and her eyes were heavy. She sighed, closing her eyes.

He'd watched her during the entire process. "Maybe you should switch to water."

She could smell alcohol on herself. But maybe she should drink some more... "I don't know."

"Have you even had dinner? Have you eaten anything all day?"

"I had breakfast... and I ate a salad," It took her some time to recall.

"So you're basically drinking on an empty stomach; you're gonna get sick." Booth sounded a little mad.

"It wasn't my intention," she defended herself. "I didn't want a drink, but it seemed to be the proper bonding ritual at the moment."

"So you did go drinking with Agent Perrota." He said.

"Why are you so interested in what I did with Perrota?" She turned her head as she spoke; the laziness gave away the extent of her inebriation. Still, her eyes pierced through his.

"Because, one minute you're here, she gets here, you bail out, she bails out, you walk away together, and next time I see you, you have a vodka bottle in your purse! Now tell me that's not weird! You don't even like Perrota!"

"Do you?" It came out in her usual low voice, even when it was a blast.

He squinted at her, a suspicious little smile crept on his face "What? Why do you care?"

"I don't." Another blast, Perrota was right about alcohol bringing out whatever you were holding back, she managed to cover. "It's just that she _does_ like you."

She loathed the smug grin that took him over. "I figured that much... did you two talk about me?"

"No." Omission of the truth is not a lie and, technically, they had talked about Brennan.

"What did you talk about?" Booth was very interested.

"None of your business!" She frowned at him, a annoyed at his curiosity.

"Ok, ok, ok... you don't have to tell me," hee hee hee, he was still proud these two had shared drinks over the topic of one Seeley Booth.

"Of course I don't!" yet another blast, this time with a snort.

"Hey, I think it's good you're bonding," he added after a silence she used to pour another whisky.

"You _do_ like her." It came out just as soon as she drew the conclusion that the only reason he could have to want them bonding was that he planned to have Perrota around. He did not reply, didn't even look at her, just drank his coffee. Her honesty pushed through... and, if she truly wasn't selfish, there was no reason not to tell him "She really likes you. She'd have slept with you tonight. She'd probably still do it if you ask her out." The burning buzz didn't sting as much as those words.

"Yeah... she would." She was unable to distinguish daydreaming on people's voices, but she was certain there was something more than the mere stating of a fact on his.

"You knew she was coming... why didn't you tell me? I would have left earlier." So she was right, he had invited Perrota, but she just had to stay, tell him about the case, see his x-rays, assume he would need food, assumed she would have to bring it. His lack of response didn't really help. She took a big gulp. "You should have told me."

A switch had been flicked in Booth's head "Why?" to say that retort was dry would be like saying the Sahara is a bit arid.

Still, he wasn't denying it. "Because... we're partners." That worked in any situation. She delivered with the little rising of the shoulders and the eyes fixed on the floor.

His face gave away nothing, but he wasn't happy with this conversation. "You know, Bones, just because we're partners doesn't mean we need to know everything about each other's lives." Booth said in a deep strong tone.

Why was he almost yelling? "That's not fair," she replied after a short silence. Her voice just a notch lower than her usual low tone. "You're the one who said one needs to give to get. I withhold no information from you, about anything in my life, because you said partners share!" Brennan leaned forward, left the glass on the floor next to her left foot, and rested her elbows on her knees. However, she wasn't hurt, just puzzled, as if that was one of the things that scared her about human interaction. She sighed loudly before closing her lips needle thin. She shouldn't have drank that much, she was starting to regret it. Now she had unveiled sorrows to drown and she had already been pulled to the bottom of the ocean.

"Now don't get all offended," it sounded... harsh? She looked at him in shock; he was staring at her, the muscles of his face tightened. He had meant it that way.

"You have never been so... rude to me before." Rude could not be the appropriate word, but Brennan failed to find a more accurate one.

"Maybe you didn't deserve it before," he replied with the trained stillness of a sniper.

Her mouth was agape, her eyes a bit narrowed, and she backed up a bit, still sitting. She should have never come up; she should have taken a cab. It was still a good idea, to get up and leave, but alcohol "Whah...if you wanted to be alone with Agent Perrota all you had to do was tell me to leave; I would have left. I was worried about you and your back. If I had known she was coming to take care of you I would have gone away."

"Who's the alpha male now?" Booth rose his brows as he said it.

It could have been read as a dare, but Brennan took it as the plain, mean insult he had intended. "What?" was her first reaction, then the logical one followed a bit louder than it should "First of all, I am not a male, second, how is _allowing you to pursue sexual satisfaction_ alpha male behaviour? Third, how dare you to go anthropological on _me_. I don't know what got into you, Booth," unless, of course, it was she had ruined his chance of spending the night with Perrota, which she wisely kept unsaid "...but you seem to be taking it out on me, and I don't appreciate that." By now, not only the volume but the speed of the discussion had increased.

"Nothing _got into me_, Bones," Booth said that shaking his palms in front of him as if mocking her use of colloquial terms. Actually, something had. Along the conversation he had grown increasingly exasperated. "I just don't get you, you know? What's _your_ problem? What do you care if I invited Perrota or not? Why would I tell you if I did? Just because you like to parade your dates doesn't mean everyone does. Some of us like to keep our private life private."

She frowned. "This has nothing to do with dates, this is friendship!" she said using her right index finger to stress the words.

"This has nothing to do with friendship. This is about you getting drunk, coming up and doing and saying stupid things." Stupid things she should have not done, that got him as tangled into this mess as she was.

"What?.... How is this about me? If anything, it's you, putting nothing into this friendship and expecting me to tell you everything. Guess what? I'm done sharing; from now on you'll get nothing out of me. You can flash your twinkling eyes and your charming smile to whomever you want, see if they give you a massage, get you a stupid chair..."

"Hey, they got me home made chilli, and would have gotten me laid," he cut her.

Time froze. Or speeded up. Bones brain sparked her reaction without intellectual thought. She punched him. One strong right fist into his arm.

"What are you, 8 years old?" he shouted "Aren't you the logical empiricist? Can't you handle a discussion, brain lady?" Now _that_ was meant to hurt. That was a low blow.

Booth had told her many times and in different ways that her intelligence was a trap, that the very same thing she praised so much kept her from forming emotional connections. But he had never, never used it to hurt her. "You are being an asshole." She said it in a normal tone, cold as ice, sharp as a scalpel.

"I may be, but at least I'm talking," Booth said in a defying tone.

What the hell was that? Wasn't he just complaining about her saying too much and asking too much? "What do you want from me, Booth? Do you want me to talk, do you want me not to talk??? Make up your mind, will you." She didn't want to be here, she wished she had never met Booth, or that she just had stuck with her first impression of him, the narrow-minded agent on whom she wouldn't waste a minute of her life. She grabbed her bag, and strode firmly towards the door.

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I hope you enjoyed it. :)  
There's more written, but this can die here or keep on going. I'll leave it up to you -because I already know how it ends, obviously-  
Seriously, I can take rejection very well. If you don't believe me, ask my drawing teacher, she reject my work every week... I do hate her, though, so maybe I don't take it too well :)

STTB


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Hi! Thanks to Mickey Boggs and Macgyver's Girl for the help :) And to all of you for reviewing, it does help the ego. I want to apologize for sounding so needy before. But more about that at the end. Hope you like it.

Declaimer: not mine, no money, done just for the kicks.

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Booth could not believe it, this was wrong even for her unadjusted being. He almost jumped after her. "Hey!" He shouted, causing her to stop dead on her tracks. "Where are you going?"

"Home." She was halfway to the door.

"No, you're not! We are having an argument, you can't just leave!" he said, hands in the air. He could not believe she'd do that, just walk out on him.

Purse in one hand, the other one on her hip, Bones looked up to the ceiling, shifted her mandible to the right and took some time before slowly tuning to face him.

Dead silence took over while they studied each other for long tense minutes. Each reviewed the events. Brennan was positive she had meant no harm, maybe she had said something wrong, but she couldn't point out what.

His state of mind was different, he was mad at her, he was seriously mad at her, but he wasn't sure it was her fault. What had triggered it? One minute they were fine, the next he was being an ass. Yes, she was going on and on about Perrotta, and then she said something about sharing. And he had snapped. And she had been so hurt, so lost that he had gotten madder. She had no right to be like that, to come in with that hurt little girl look in her eyes, oblivious to anything and anyone other than herself, and drag him into her absolute confusion. She had to have figured some things out on her own by now.

Why was he angry? She could see it in his eyes, but she didn't know why. And she was afraid to ask. He'd blame her for not knowing, for being socially inadequate. Brennan was powerless in this situation. Her purse hit the floor with a soft thump.

"Good, you're staying," he intended it well, but it came out a bit annoyed.

"You said I couldn't leave." Brennan sounded soft. Now she had both hands on her hips, and was looking down at the floor.

He remained seated waiting for her to talk, but she didn't. "Aren't you going to say something?" Booth finally asked.

Brennan lifted her head to look at him. "I don't know what to say that won't upset you," It was said without any inflection.

"See? There you go again!" To Booth, her answer had been a new spark that threatened to send to full force a fire he was barley keeping at bay.

"What? What did I do now? I don't even know what I did before" The last part was under her breath.

"You know what you did, Bones?" He was talking fast again and she wondered if staying had been a mistake. "You act all insecure, getting drunk over who knows what, pushing the Perrotta thing on me... you just have no right to do those things."

"I am sorry, ok, I am sorry... I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." She was pretty sure she had to apologize, though she could not think of why. What had she done that was so terrible? She had just tried to be a good friend.

He sighed, no, there was not getting through to her. "You know, I'd have said that, by now, you'd have got an idea about relationships," His voice lowered again and Brennan was grateful for it.

"You keep changing the rules, it's extremely confusing."

"The thing is, Bones, there are no rules - you just have to go with your guts, your instincts." He was Booth again, explaining things to her, but, this time, it wasn't explanatory enough.

She finally sat back down on the couch. She felt defeated, inadequate, inept, and awkward. Was she even part of the human race? But she didn't want to ask, no answer would be clear enough for her to grasp, he certainly wasn't calmed enough to engage into a quiet, patient, thorough lesson on the topic and, to be honest, Brennan was starting to believe he didn't have all the answers. She reached for the forgotten vodka shot she'd left at the table.

He rolled his eyes, and even when she wasn't looking at him, she felt his disappointment. "Reasoning isn't working, I might as well do what _normal_ people do and lose all sense."

"I'd rather you didn't do that. It's not..." Booth couldn't help the need to protect her even from herself.

"Would it be better if I did it alone in a bar?" She cut him, and not waiting for an answer, she added. "And you said I could come up and get hammered, which I assumed was not your way to say you'd hit me with a hammer"

He had to laugh, these little things made it impossible for him to remain angry at her. Brennan frowned at him. How could she possibly understand him? He shouted at her, he censored her, he laughed at her.

"You're right, it's best you get drunk here." Booth squeezed her shoulder, a faint smile on his face.

That was good, that meant he was not going to fight with her anymore. She stared at the glass and, without hesitation, drained the content. It felt hotter than before, as if she was swallowing fire. It made things less clear. Maybe it wasn't such a great idea. "I don't feel very well."

"Are you going to barf?"

She shut her eyes tight, "Yes, I think I am."

"Come on," He pulled her by the arm and led her to the bathroom. He settled her in front of the toilet and sat on the tub. Brennan gathered her hair in a low bow, the way she did in crime scenes, and closed her hands around the ceramic.

She knew what was coming. It was as if a fist clenched around her stomach whilst a hand pulled the inner walls of her stomach through her throat. The spasm overtook her, the inevitable sound of stomach contents spilling into the toilet. Then the groan as she felt cold sweat all over her body. All of her muscles seemed to have lost tone and the tremors made her feel that her bones were no longer attached to one another. And everything all over again. This was pathetic.

Resting her back on the wall next to the toilet, she breathed soundly, in an effort to regain control over her being. She took the wet cloth Booth handed right before he flushed the toilet. "There was no food in there, Bones..." Great, Booth looking at her vomit,_ that _was pathetic."Do you have a toothbrush?"

Running the cloth first against her neck, then over her face, she nodded, "In my purse."

Next thing she knew she was bent over the sink brushing her teeth, her tongue, her inner cheeks. She did it three times, until there was no residual taste of bile. Booth had given her some privacy, though she thought it would have been better if he had done so when she was bent over the toilet emptying her stomach.

With a plastic bottle of water in his hand, he returned and asked, "Feeling better?"

"Actually yes, my head is lighter." Had she been the kind of woman that believed in archaic notions, she would have said she felt blessed, for she could keep her eyes open and her dizziness was gone, though she was still a little shaky. "I'm sorry." She was extremely apologetic tonight.

"Why?"

She raised her eyebrows and smiled the way she had done right before she messed his back up, "Because you had to see me vomit like that."

"Not the first time I've seen a lady in such unlady-like conduct," he joked.

"I don't appreciate being called a lady," She replied with that lopsided smile that led him to believe she really didn't mind it that much, and drank little sips of water.

He made a grin. "After that, not a chance I'll be calling you a lady, you're like a drinking buddy."

"Ha ha." Her hip was resting on the sink; he was leaning on the door frame. They both blinked. Brennan's head was tilted, Booth was wearing a little smile, his head was dropped just a bit. Were his eyes twinkling? Were hers?

"You should get some sleep," he said.

In a move too quick for her state, she took her cell from her pocket and dialled. "Hello, I need a cab."

"Bones, Bones, Bones, what are you doing?" Booth asked walking to her.

"Calling a cab" Back to the phone "Dr. Temperance Brennan"

"You're staying, ok? You're staying." He said taking the phone from her "She doesn't need a cab... no, don't call the police, she's drunk and she's staying...." Silence "She wants to talk to you" He addressed Bones.

"Hello? No, it's... I am a little intoxicated... my partner... no, he's not an abu..." She directed a look at him, then to the floor, cheeks a bit reddened "We're colleagues, we work together. I appreciate your concern, but you shouldn't be so indiscreet." Handing the phone back to Booth she said "She's afraid you're a kidnapper, could you please tell her you're FBI?"

"Hello, I'm not a kidnapper, ok? I am Special Agent Seeley Booth with the FBI... Of course you're still calling the cops..." He rolled his eyes, it was better to get it out of the way "I'll give you the address... but just so you know, if I was a kidnapper I'd give you a bogus address." Booth gave the woman the real address, hung up and gave the phone back to Brennan. "The police are coming, happy now?"

"No, why would that make me happy?"

"Now you're staying up until the police get here," Booth said opening his eyes wide, as if she was a child and he was imparting a lesson. He turned and padded away. In a different tone, he added "How's your stomach?"

"Better I guess." Brennan slowly followed him to the kitchen.

He put the kettle on the stove, and they stood, butts on the counter arms crossed on the chests. Booth looked at her. Absentmindedly, she undid her bow and shook her head to release the tension created by the bonded strands. Who was this woman, standing in his kitchen? Where was the _I've been in Guatemala investigating genocide_ woman he had picked up from the airport years ago? The one who had treated him like crap during the first year they'd known each other?

Now he had this messed up girl with a confused expression rubbing the floor with the tip of her shoe. Now he had a woman who defined herself as rational, and yet seemed to struggle with it. A woman whose comings and goings threw him off base half the time. No, he could not understand what the hell was in her mind. He almost hated her sometimes. When she... did things like that Perrotta babble from before.

And some other times, she'd just stay there, comfortable and vulnerable, no longer insecure, no longer anything. Just there. And that got a smile out of him. He wished he could make things better.

Booth padded to her, trapped her knees with his and held her, pushing her head to his shoulder. She didn't complain, didn't ask what he was doing. She just let him gather her, his arms giving her the much-needed shielding and extra support.

Brennan's brain was still occupied with the conversation with Perrotta. And the things Booth had said, the ones she had replied. It had been one of the most irrational conversations she had ever had. She exhaled, and, like before, she allowed her weight to rest on him. Once again, that contact made her feel better, warm, safe and a number of other things of a physiological nature she decided to ignore. Which was difficult, since Perrotta had laid those ideas about awkwardness, irrationality and feelings onto her. Detachment. And as the word formed, she detached. It was almost imperceptible, but not to Booth.

The kettle whistled announcing the water was boiling before he could ask anything. Booth stepped away, turned the fire off and grabbed 2 mugs, placed a tea bag in each, and poured the water.

The doorbell rang, then a thump on the door and the predictable "Police, could you open the door?"

"Coming" he went to the door and opened it. Two officers looked at him. "Is there a Temperance Brennan here? We'd like to talk to her"

She appeared behind Booth. "I'm Temperance Brennan."

"May we come in?"

Booth moved to let them in.

"Is everything ok, ma'am?" One of the men asked her.

The other talked to Booth. "Are there weapons in this household?"

"Yes, there are. I'm an FBI agent; my badge is over that table." He pointed and stood still, knowing that the officer would remain suspicious until he checked. The man did and then relaxed.

"She says everything's fine, everything was a misunderstanding."

She smiled at the men. But they noticed the bottles. "Have you been drinking, pal?"

"No, I was drinking" She replied "Why do men always assume that the man did the drinking?"

"Because, lady, a drunk man can cause a lot of damage to a lady like yourself, while you would most likely put yourself in danger when drunk"

"Booth's not a drunk, and he'd never... In fact, he's looking after me, even though I don't need it, because I was too drunk to drive home and I just vomited and he didn't think it was a good idea for me to take a cab in this state, much less being home alone"

Just the beginning of her statement had made him smile, and by the end he had the most self- content face a guy could get.

"That's what partners do, you should know," she finished.

"Thanks, Bones." Booth's eyes twinkled, but she was staring at the officers.

"Fine, Lady."

"It's Dr. Brennan." In a different tone she added "And thank you for your concern and your thoroughness, you seem to be very efficient officers, though you should really consider a review on your sexist manners"

The men looked at Booth, who was still smiling like an idiot, obviously proud of his so-called partner. "Fine, then... and thank you on the compliment... I think," was the last thing they heard from the policemen.

They headed to the kitchen again. In silence, rethinking whatever it was, they drank their teas. Sleepytime tea. Together they went to the bathroom and they brushed their teeth at the same time. While she changed into an undershirt and sweat pants, he placed a trash can next to the bed.

She protested, saying she'd take the couch. He said no, if she got sick again, or needed anything, he wanted to be close. That was the Booth she knew, and had the night been different she would have fought with him, annoyed at his unnecessary protectiveness. But tonight, she was just happy they were back to normal. So, they lay on the bed, Booth on the left side, Bones on the right.

"You should sleep on your back," she said rolling onto her right.

"I know".

"Good night, Booth."

"Good night."

From the street, the policemen watched as all the lights died down. Yes, they had gone to bed, without any shouting or sign of illegal activity. Only then did they drive away.

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Ok, so, yes, I am insecure. However, I'm not modest. I am proud of what I think is good, I ask if I am not sure and I when I say I think something sucks I really do believe it. This is my explanation for sounding so unbelievably needy before. Of course I still like reviews, good or bad. There's more on my computer undergoing rewriting for the millionth time. That said, I'm off to draw (my teacher keeps on being disappointed with my work).  
I hope you liked it, feel free to say it either way.

STTB


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Mickey Boggs and MacGyver's Girl have my eternal gratitude. So do those of you who are still reading this.  
I know I've changed Perrota's, Perrotta's, Perotta's name from chapter to chapter, I am sorry, I know it's annoying. I still don't know which one is correct. Bare with me on that one :)  
Guys,** there is a rating change**, it's M now, so if you're under 18 you shouldn't read this. You will anyway, but I have to make it clear. I am responsible adult.  
Soundtrack for writing it, I have to say The Ramones.

Disclaimer: Money? Nope. Property? Nope. Though if they wanted to hire me, I wouldn't decline.

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Not a good night. Not a good night at all. She fell asleep but kept waking up, tossing, turning and kicking the sheets. Even when they had on very few occasions shared a bed, or even a room, he knew the drill, she wasn't used to it, so she tended to slide to the middle and spread her extremities.

He couldn't blame her. He was not used to a woman that tall taking all of his bed. He wasn't even sure he remembered what sharing his bed felt like, regardless of how tall or short his female companion was.

But what was really disturbing was that every time they touched, she'd roll to her right and sighed little high-pitched, low-volume sighs he could only associate with distress.

They'd had maybe two hours of interrupted sleep when Brennan got up and stumbled to the bathroom. Booth lifted his head and in a deep, sleepy voice asked "Bones, you ok?"

"Yeah," she replied with the same tone in her voice.

By the sounds that came from the bathroom he knew she wasn't throwing up again. He rested his head against the pillow and heard her come back, her steps heavy and quick. Booth's eyes followed her as she crawled into the bed, arms pressed to her sides, as if she was cold -or perhaps trying to diminish the bounce of her breasts. She rested on her left shoulder, exhaled loudly and closed her eyes. He looked at her in the slim street light that came through the window.

"Are you ok?" Booth muttered.

Brennan's eyes opened in a flash. "Hum, yes, I didn't throw up."

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?" She frowned a little.

"Bones, the longest you've slept must have been twenty minutes." Booth used his _you're not fooling anyone_ tone.

"Am I waking you? I am waking you. I'm sorry"

"I just wanna know what's keeping you up."

Brennan rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling for a minute. What was keeping her up? "I don't... know," she closed her lips in a downward curve, considering which part of the night was responsible for her restlessness.

"Are you still drunk?"

She let out a chuckle and, with an almost embarrassed look, replied "I think I have disposed of enough alcohol to be sober now." She shut her eyes. And she sighed one more time.

"Come on, Bones, talk to me." Booth softly brushed her shoulder with his knuckles.

The waterfall of ideas that drowned her kept her from replying. Talking had gotten her in trouble. Because if she hadn't asked Agent Perotta _why was that awkward_ she'd be home now, in her own bed, asleep and calm. Instead, she had had the most irrational night of her adult life, having drinks with Perotta over what could be considered girl talk-though it lacked girl talk terminology from what she had learned from Angela-, then coming back to Booth's home, more alcohol, talking, stretching, more drinking, fighting, vomiting, the police and now she was in bed with Booth asking her what was keeping her up. "I... don't know." It was impossible to narrow it down to just one of the options.

"Come over here" Booth ordered lifting his right arm.

He saw her frown, tighten her lips to the side and look to her right. "Why?"

"Because you need a hug."

With that as a valid argument, she scooted over and unceremoniously placed her head on his shoulder and her arm across his chest. He clasped his arm around her.

"There. Better?" He asked, barely smiling.

She wasn't surprised it was better indeed. "I don't like to cuddle." Bones said knowing it wasn't an answer. She was, after all, Bones.

Booth chuckled "Of course you don't." But he suspected she didn't know the first thing about cuddling.

It was just a guy hug. Horizontal, that was the only difference, she repeated to herself. He noticed her chest pressing slightly against him with each breath she took. He stroked her back hoping it would help.

It soothed her. But why was it that every time Perotta was around she ended up being so physical with Booth? Because she knew that under any other circumstance she would have never agreed to come over here.

"I'm sorry" She finally said.

"Why?"

"Because Perotta should be here, not me." She pressed her lips so hard after saying it that they formed a line, as if she shouldn't be saying it even when it was true and she considered it had to be said.

It was his turn to sigh "I would have slept with her, if that's what you want to know," Booth replied in a defeated voice. She had brought that up how many times tonight?

It certainly wasn't what she wanted to know. However, being the truth, it was important information. Which, of course, was fast made into an inevitable conclusion. All of her previous assumptions had been correct. He had called Perotta, he had asked her to bring food, he had left the door open for her. "So you love her."

"What?"

Brennan could not distinguish the word from the subtext carried on the inflection. "You love her," and repeating it was actually much worse than just saying it.

"No, I don't. Why do you say that?" He tilted his head in a fruitless attempt to look at her. Why would Bones, of all people, say that?

Brennan rolled onto her back, his arm still trapped under her. She went into scientific mode: A equals B, B equals C, hence A equals C. "Well, you said meaningless sex is lame. That one should not engage in purely physical relations. That great sex is lovemaking, and I assume that one has to love someone to make love with them, therefore, you must love Perotta." Ok, she had used an intuitive leap, but wasn't it obvious?

Half-frustrated by the way she managed to turn everything into a dissertation, he retrieved his arm in a not-quite-gentle manner, rattling her. "You know, Bones, sometimes people don't get what they want." He was certainly amongst those people.

"Ok." Yes, he was right, people often didn't get what they wanted or deserved. "But... That doesn't mean that they should stop looking for it, right?" She looked at him as if waiting for corroboration.

Booth crossed his arms and exhaled through the nose. "Yeah..." and his sentence died there.

She squinted at him "Have you... given up?" That was not Booth-like. But his face, his shoulders... there seemed to be some... she was useless at this! She had no idea what was there.

Booth blinked at the ceiling. Was it really necessary to have this talk tonight? "You need to rest," he stated as if that could actually end the conversation.

She was wide awake now, curious, needing to understand. "No, I don't... and, anyway, you implied that I was restless. So I might as well use this time in a productive manner." Booth remained silent, so she frowned. "Have you?"

"No, Bones, I haven't, OK?" He was annoyed. Why couldn't she just leave him alone?

She pondered and then "Good. You shouldn't."

He looked at her with a quick turn of the head. She was sincere, Booth concluded. He smiled because she had that look in her face, as if she was just one step away from catching the murderer. Maybe he should give her a little push "No one should, Bones."

"Well..." She was forming the idea as she spoke. "It is impossible for someone who doesn't believe in... love or happiness, to seek it. So, it could not be giving up."

"Bones, the only people that don't believe in happiness have already given up."

They fell silent for some minutes. Booth was once again mentally cursing Max, Russ, Christine, all the foster parents, social workers, high school kids and former boyfriends that had locked it in Bones' head that happiness doesn't exist.

Brennan was very pleased with herself. She was so very much in control now. She had to hand it to Perotta. She was right. She had been irrational. About Booth in particular. Because he had been some kind of... constant in her life. She had once heard that there was a man, this kind of dry, often ill-mannered man who most people disliked who was married to a perfectly nice sweet woman. And the man said that she was his card of presentation. Meaning that people would think that if she loved him, he couldn't be so bad. Booth was her personal card. If he liked her, she could not be so weird, she could not be completely inadequate. The idea of losing her constant, that one person who made her feel she was a social human being, _that_ threatened her, not Booth being with another woman. She smiled. But there was still something in the back of her mind, some thought she could not get out, something related to this sort of hollow pain in her stomach. But when Brennan had sensations such as this, that she could not explain, she tried to ignore them. Which she did again. "You shouldn't give up." She repeated.

"I haven't." He hadn't. He wouldn't. Even if the chances of getting what he wanted were slim, he wouldn't. He knew that.

(Booth needed her to believe that it was worth it. That searching for a square inch of happiness in this messed up world they saw everyday was worth it. Even if it wasn't going to be found or if from time to time it really seemed it didn't exist.)

"Perotta really likes you." Her voice was soft. Even when she had already said it, more than once, she needed to give him a pass. She was going to be ok without her constant. Because Brennan was certain that he would put her well-being before his, therefore, he would remain her card of presentation until she didn't need one anymore. And perhaps that was what he was saying when he pointed out that she should, by now, have some idea about human interaction.

"I don't love Perotta."

"Well, you could. I mean, you must think you could"

He knew that had something to do with her previous explanation of why he loved Perotta, but he didn't want to hear it all over again. "No, I can't." And trying to lighten the mood, he gave her a smirk and added "Sorry, you're not a good match-maker, Perotta and I are never gonna happen"

"I..." It came out a little too strong and a little too fast. But she was glad she hadn't finished that phrase. So she shook her head and continued "All I'm saying is, if you like… her" this was getting harder to repeat "or anyone, you shouldn't give up, you should... you know... you shouldn't hold back." There, again, she had said it. She was not selfish, she could, just like Booth, put his happiness before hers. She was a secure, confident, strong –even if it sounded like a bad self-help line- woman who'd just had a bad night.

"I won't..." Booth responded. "I mean..." but he didn't know what he meant. He looked at her again, laying there, on his bed, hands placed below her chest, ankles crossed, face to the ceiling, as if she did this all the time. And then he knew what he meant. "You shouldn't either, Bones."

She cocked her head at him with what attempted to be a smile. "Well, it's not rational to think one can be happy forever."

"Are you saying that I am allowed to be irrational?" He had to smile at that.

"Yes, you're all about irrationality." Though coming from her it could be an insult, she wasn't implying that. "You are all about God, and faith, and guts and love. I am about science and proof. I don't know how to believe in those the things." She wished she could, she really did, but _it wasn't rational_.

Booth had no answer to that. He wasn't sure he could keep trying to convince her that it was worth the trouble and heartbreak. But no, if she couldn't believe... "You know, I change my answer."

"You can't." She replied.

They stared at each other for a moment. Brennan spoke first. "You just can't... because even if you say you'll hold back, your nature will drive you to keep going. I was trying to tell you that you shouldn't fight your nature," just like she couldn't fight her nature. She was unable to believe because she was rational.

Holding their gaze, he studied her and she allowed it. But the weight of his search was unbearable for her, so she continued "You... you need to..." then she looked away, uncomfortable for some reason to say it with his eyes piercing hers, "find someone that believes. If not Perotta, then someone else." She avoided mentioning Cam and Pritchard, because it was one thing to tell him it was ok, but a very different one to point directions.

This time, Bones' insistence on him getting a girlfriend didn't infuriate him. However, for the second time that night, he cursed every person had ever let her down.

Booth reached for her hand, in a gesture that was more hers than his; he would have hugged her, but it didn't seem appropriate.

She felt the palm of his hand slide across the back of her left one, then his fingers curling around it, and she saw her hand being pulled to the space between them. Booth held her hand.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Booth. He was rather calm, maybe a little gloomy as he stared at her hand in his. Brennan's breathing became shallow, faster and uneven. She stared at the ceiling looking for a reason for such distress. He was so calmed, why was she so... uncalmed? And where the hell had all of her words gone?

Though the gesture had been driven by the need to comfort her, to tell her, even when she hadn't asked, that he'd be around; Booth got lost in his thoughts and in her hand. Her hand, that was just like Bones, delicate, fair, beautiful, and yet, angular, sharp, bony. With an unsuspected strength, capable of the most touching contact and the heaviest punch. He played with her hand, ran his fingertips through each crest, each hollow, each wrinkle, how could a hand be so complex? Well, he thought, if it was just like her owner, it had to be complex. It couldn't just be a hand. Bones was far more than just a person. Booth sighed whilst his pinky touched the thin skin of her wrist. Bones shivered and looked at him. But he was still somewhere else.

She really thought it was irrational. She really thought love and happiness were worthless and meaningless. And maybe that was his curse. To have Bones there, within his arm's reach and unobtainable. To be able to hold her and touch her but not to be with her. Maybe God hadn't forgiven him for all the lives he had taken; sometimes he hadn't forgiven himself either. People don't always get what they want. Sometimes, they just don't deserve it and God makes sure they don't get it. Booth felt this had to be his case. And his punishment was this, to touch her only to be reminded he wasn't allowed to have that.

"Booth?" She called almost in a whisper.

That shook him out and made him turn his head to look at her.

"Are..." She frowned before saying _you ok?_ because it was obvious he wasn't. "What is it?"

"What is what?" He asked back.

"You're... are you sad?" He seemed sad, but it wouldn't be the first time she misunderstood expressions.

"No." He replied and let go of her hand as his face turned to the ceiling.

She almost held on. Almost. There was an instant in which she was sure she should, but hesitation crept and then it was simply impossible for her to grab his hand. "Are you still thinking about giving up?"

Booth shook his head and looked at her. "No, you're right, I can't give up" How to tell her that not giving up was actually much worse than doing it?

She wondered why he looked so sad, if he had taken a good choice. People, from what she had observed, were exultant after decisions such as his. "I'm glad. You do... you should have what you want. You're perfect." She gave him an approving look with a nod, the one with the eyes wide open and the lips a little curved. Her brain went lightspeeding as soon as she realized what she had said. She could not say things like that.

"No, I'm not" Booth said, uncomfortable for the collision of her words and his thoughts.

"Well, no, of course not." He looked so hurt now that she had jumped and denied it. "Perfection doesn't exist," she added. But it wasn't enough. Booth wasn't the kind of man that accepted generalizations. She had to be specific and explanatory "But you are..." The tricky thing was that he was perfect. Perfect with all of his imperfections, all the little things that drove her crazy, all the stupid things he said and did, all of them made him Booth. "You're pretty close to perfection, according to our societies standards" Yep, that was a good answer. It was reassuring and yet objective.

"Thanks" He said, rather unconvinced.

"No, really, you are selfless, caring, you help everybody, you're a good friend, a good agent, you were a good sniper, you're a great father... you're a good person, Booth." And she had hit the jackpot.

He was a good father, a very good one and his kid loved him. But, just like with Bones, he didn't get Parker. He could never have the bond Parker had with his mother, he could never have the ease of everyday life. God seriously wanted him to pay back the pain he had caused.

She had provided good justification with those examples. Brennan was pleased with herself. Scratch that, she was pleased by the fact that she had found examples of social parameters that suited her previous irrational statement. Analyzing it, she was correct on both fronts. Because Booth was Booth by definition, thus, he was perfect in his "Boothness", so to speak. And as a social being, he certainly was the closest thing to perfection she had ever known. She had said it before in a room full of people as a toast, when she had failed to understand how much those words meant. They said he was perfect, but they meant she thought he was perfect. Brennan pressed her lips together. Going back to Anthropology, it could be inferred that she considered him a suitable mate, which she did. Extrapolating that concept to society's common terms, it could be understood as her way to say she loved him. _Which I don't_ she thought because she was very well trained.

Booth's mind traveled back to the first part of her statement. He was selfless, most of the time. He did his best to take care of the people he loved and even the ones he didn't. He tried to help as much as possible in pretty much every situation. He didn't have many friends, but the ones he had were real friends, you could show up at their doorsteps unannounced and it was ok. As an agent, he didn't pursue a conviction but the truth. He really was a good person. And God was forgiving.

Ideas merged in Brennan's head. Anthropology versus Social Terms led to Social Anthropology. The part of her discipline she had always dreaded. However, even when using Classic Anthropology terminology, her toast fit Social Anthropology best because it evaluated Booth as a social human being instead of simply an animal or a rational animal, which was how she usually evaluated people, herself included. And, in honor to the truth, she had to admit that humans are social beings. Again, herself included. Brennan liked being rational, purely rational, untainted by all the subjective, most of the time senseless social conventions. But she was part of the society, it was a fact, one can't deny a fact. Inevitably some of those irrational conceptions were going to leak into her. Which explained, rationally, why she wanted to believe. The realization felt odd as if her organs had been sucked to a point beneath her navel. Perotta was correct again. Damn Perotta and her inclination to be right! Though, this time, Brennan was actually glad Perotta was right –still she didn't like her. It was rational to be irrational. And perhaps, just perhaps, she could believe in the same things as Booth. This put things into a new perspective. She smiled a tight smile.

And God was forgiving. And Booth had shown repentance. And he worked hard on making amends. But there was one thing standing still. He had meant it when he had said he couldn't love Perotta. Like he hadn't been able to love Cam. Or Tessa. He had liked them, he had hoped he could love them. It just hadn't happened. And he had started to think that maybe he was no longer capable of loving.

"Bones, are you awake?"

She stared at him "Bones would have been enough."

He rolled his eyes "It's just a phrase, Bones."

"Ok, I am indeed and quite obviously awake"

Did she have to make everything so hard? Maybe he shouldn't do it, if she was going to be so "Bones" about it. It was a wise decision, he wasn't going to do it. She would ask too many questions he didn't want to answer and then she'd say he was stupid. Which he was in no shape to take.

"Was there a point or are you suddenly against me resting?" She asked as if Angela had possessed her.

Booth looked at her puzzled. Was she perky? Was she making jokes in the wee hours? Was that good? If he was going to do it, he better do it while she was in this mood. After all it was an experiment and Brennan was in favor of those. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure. What do you need?" She expected something in the line of a glass of water.

"Would you kiss me?" As soon as the words were out he wanted to set himself on fire.

WHAT??? Brennan would have said something but she was speechless. Of course she wouldn't kiss him!

Booth thought her silence was good. She hadn't punched him, yelled at him, or…

"I'm not having sex with you." Could he be seriously asking that? Did he think he had some sort of right since she had screwed up his chance with Perotta?

He looked at her, face retorted in utter confusion, and saw something very similar to horror but he read it, rightly, as shock "Wha... Who said anything about sex? Geez!" Those leaps she made he was never going to understand. "Did I ask 'would you have sex with me'? No! I said 'would you kiss me'."

"Well, I..."

"You know what? Forget it, it was just an experiment. I thought, as a friend, you'd be willing to help me, but never mind." One would have thought he would be hurt or ashamed. However, he was leaning towards anger.

"What kind of experiment?" She was frowning at him interested in his scientific term.

"Just an experiment, ok. You don't wanna help, that's fine, don't help," he said in the fast way he used when she ran him out of patience.

"I didn't say I wasn't going to help, I just asked what kind of experiment it was." The velocity of their conversation increased.

"It doesn't matter."

"Well, it does."

"No, it doesn't. You either help or you don't."

"I'd like to know."

"It's my experiment. You don't need to know."

"You always ask about my experiments!"

"'Cause you like to explain."

"Fine."

"Fine!" He crossed his arms on his chest annoyed, half-angry and a tiny bit embarrassed.

"Fine, I'll help." She felt, and she was correct, that she had to clarify it.

"What?"

"I'll help with your experiment."

"But you just said," Booth was confused at her because she was no longer shocked but serene.

Brennan didn't want to explain why she was all of the sudden ok with it. "Do you want the help or not?" she blasted. Was he stupid enough to let the chance slip? She would never again say yes. "Yeah, thanks, Bones."

She would have replied _shut up_. But that would have been too open, it would have revealed too much. So she muttered a "Yeah."

Booth placed his right arm along the line of the pillows so she could be comfortable. His left arm was left on his stomach.

She slid next to him, on her side, but it took her some time to find the right position. She wasn't sure of where she should put her hands for balance, or how much she had to lean on him, or exactly where she had to be so she could face him directly. It took a lot of rearrangement until she was just perfectly placed, there was perhaps too much torso contact, but at least she hadn't thrown her leg across his hip.

And there they were. Booth couldn't look at her. He didn't know it that was due to the fact that he would kiss her before she did, or because he was going to regain sense and call the whole thing off. He closed his eyes and felt like a 12-year-old who is about to be kissed for the first time.

Brennan leaned her face closer to his until they were 2 inches apart. Her right hand was placed above his chest and she could feel the thump of his heart. But that wasn't what kept her from advancing. It was that awkward feeling, that sensation of being pulled in different directions with the same force. It was knowing that this experiment could have devastating results either way. She told herself that it was always best to know, and dared to look at him.

He was so relaxed. He was so... Booth. The air that came out of his parted lips was so irresistible. And her own body seemed so... something.

After this moment of stillness in which all he felt was her breathing on his face, Booth opened his eyes, a tad insecure. She wasn't going to do it, was she? He would have to set himself on fire after this. Or tell her that she was still drunk and none of this had ever happened.

But as he was opening his eyes, she was closing hers and slowly shortening the distance.

She didn't kiss him. He'd assumed she'd kissed him like in Christmas. But no.

She very, very softly, brushed her lips across his. First to the right, then to the left, back and forth, tilting her head, using only its movements and creating an intoxicating effect as their lips either slid or stuck together, randomly opening and closing their mouths.

This was too much for her to process. She had expected a corroboration. Either he made her believe in things or he didn't. That was the extent of _her_ experiment. She had predicted a certain degree of physiological response, but not this. Not _this_. Not her mind blowing into pieces and her body covered in goose bumps. She pressed a little bit harder, not because she wanted but because she was unable to stop.

Booth felt electricity, from his lips to the rest of his body. Did Bones have any clue? Did she know what she could cause by such a tender touch? Ideas died as she pressed again, her head tilted so that their lips fitted perfectly and even when he had said nothing about him kissing her he could not restrain himself.

When his tongue touched hers the little voice in her head that was crying _kiss me kiss me kiss me_ fell silent. And as his hands slid across her back trapping her without any strength she simply let go. Of herself, that is.

She fitted so perfectly in his arms. Her back was small, he could hold her without any effort, his hands could reach the opposite side of her waist, his fingers could have touched his breasts if he had tried. And she was still kissing him; she didn't break it even when she gasped as he moved his hands to her hips. Bones wasn't going away. God didn't hate him. Bones didn't hate him either. In fact, her hand was behind his neck pulling him closer, she was kissing him deeper.

It was the first time since she had engaged in frequent sexual activities that she didn't take the lead. It wasn't a decision, it was the result of the overwhelming feeling that had spread all over her being. Who would have guessed she could feel like this? She had hoped, but she hadn't expected it. And now that she was melting into Booth she could not help but admit she was a woman of her era, one that believed in stupid irrational things and wanted to have them.

It was up to Booth to peel her off her undershirt. I was also up to Booth to take off his own shirt. It was Booth who had to caress her until she leaned back against him, and he was also the one that kissed her again. Brennan was almost paralyzed; she could only respond but not take action. That had never happened to her before.

Booth finally lifted her up by her hip bones and rested her perfectly on top of him. He also pressed that part against his and they both let out groans. He continued to caress her and kiss her and pull her closer and rub her harder. It was Booth who finished the undressing and the one that rolled them so he was on top.

Brennan was the one that said "Condom"

There were still butterflies in his stomach when she kissed him again before burying her face on his shoulder. After looking at him in the eyes all throughout what she could not yet define, which hadn't been plain sex, she couldn't now handle his eyes.

One of her legs was still wrapped around him and it slid as he got off her. And it was awkward and confusing, even more so than all that had happened that night.

Laying on his side next to her, one hand on her stomach, Booth stared at her. He shouldn't have done this. He had ruined everything. He should have never called her up, should have never stopped her, should have never suggested the stupid experiment, for now had all gone to hell and Bones couldn't even look at him. He had been an ass that had taken advantage of his drunken partner. He had been handed the last betrayal. Now she was never going to trust anyone again. There was only one thing he could do to fix this mess she had brought with a bottle of Vodka in her purse and a confused look in her eyes and he had deepened with a pointless discussion and a ton's worth of self pity. He hated himself, he loathed himself. He had to say it, he had to apologize and vow to never ever hurt her or let her down again

She hated herself. She really did. Not only was she now deep into things she didn't quite grasp, but she had, even if only for that moment, relinquished the one thing that had guided her life to success so far. Back to normal, her brain yelled at her. And that she did.

"How's your back?" She asked finally facing him. It was the logical and most stupid thing to ask, she was aware of that.

"Hum" Booth had not predicted that. "Fine, told you that you have magic fingers." She had magic everything as far as he could tell. She was so magical he was able to believe he was capable of love. Which he painfully did. He rolled onto his back, covered his eyes with one hand and let it out "Bones" _I'm sorry, I really am, I should have never_ "I love you." Booth squeezed his eyes. He hadn't meant to say it, well he had, but he shouldn't have done it.

Brennan blinked. Now that she came to think of it, she should have known. That was what Perotta had meant when she asked _You really don't see it, do you?_ And no, she hadn't, but yes, she should have, and now she did.

Yet, no, she wasn't going to say it, even when she felt, recognized and accepted that she did love him too.

Since pretty much nothing that night had gone the way it normally would have, she went with that flow. So she rolled and, like before, only this time looking into his eyes before she did it, she brushed her lips against his. That was enough for them to re-engage in the perfect endeavour they had just finished.

They defeated physics, even Bones knew that. Oh yes, they loved each other, and they were together now, and oddly enough, if they ever got married, they would have to ask Perotta to be the Maid of Honor.

************************

The end!

I hope you enjoyed it. Lame to ask, I know, but drop me a line, even if you hated it, because it makes me happy. I do deserve happiness, don't I? :)

stripped to the bones.


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